"cackled" poems
PROLOGUE
The Flame, aflicker, licks and flays,
illuming evening’s negligees
With braided curls she swirls and sways,
and flits and floats in light ballets
APOLOGUE
A Flame, to conquer creeping fog,
flew dancing towards a random log
Her flight perplexed a leery frog
beside a silent somber bog
The Flame, a ripple, all alone
alit on leaves where birds had flown
The aching twigs began to moan
A rising breeze began to groan
The Flame arrayed an ancient oak
with torrid tongues and veils of smoke
A ****** bailed, the dam had broke
The leery frog soon ceased to croak
The Flame uncoiled and lashed midair,
consuming crowns with utmost care
A crazed coyote fled her lair,
left in the lurch bewildered bear
The Flame, unfurled, went wild and grew,
enkindled cats and caribou
Remaining... not a residue,
as reeking vapors bade adieu
The Flame revealed her strength unshackled
Flora, fauna crisped and crackled
Fire Witches clucked and cackled
One more forest stripped, then hackled
EPILOGUE
The arsonists were well aware
the Flame would travel everywhere
The weirs are gone, the land is bare,
and soon you’ll find a city there
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 5:15 AM UTC
I'm having tea with Life,
And his band of Disappointments.
They dine at my expense,
And they're a hungry bunch of guests.
Tea turned into Supper,
Where the Disappointments drank
My finest wine,
And Life wiped his cruel mouth
On my tablecloth.
You can't have supper without dessert,
So they ate up more of my
Food for thought.
And if you stay for dessert,
You may as well spend the night.
So they did
And burgled my pantry of hopes
For a midnight snack.
One night was lovely,
So Life cackled, "Why not stay two?"
And two turned to a week,
And a week turned into
My sickeningly merry guests
Moving into my dreams,
And inviting in Doubt,
To live with them too,
And of course
Pay no rent.
So I watch my chaotic household
Of a skull,
Where Life has made himself at home
And brought all of his friends.
I stare dully at my ruined
Dining room of thought,
Which they have dominated.
And look wearily for a spare idea
In my raided cupboards.
I've never been one
To evict friends,
So I suppose they're here to stay.
But learn a lesson from me,
And don't ever
Have Life over for tea.
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 1:38 AM UTC
he said/begged,
make love to me just like a woman!
kiss me toe to head, linger on my neck,
trace my waist, begin at my lips, pause at my hips,
quibbles intersperse, quips and licks on eyelids,
nibble me, near me, close and closer yet
unto the glorious victorious near death experience...
whisper me sweet everythings
before during after and over again,
when you must pause to exhale, blow all their warmth
upon thy fingers and bring that warmth inside
Columbus
me with tongue and eyes,
take me slow then again,
even slower, for thy pleasure,
than execute summary judgement upon me
falsely accept, then deny, deny, deny
my every appeal to
oh my god
for anyone's mercy!
adjudge me then guilty yet again,
and to the tower take me
to drown in mine own lashing lamentations,
thy incontrovertible evidence,
mine own uncensored revelations
execute me twice,
slowly, goodly with lengthy and lovely measures
*she said, and so I shall, eventually,
do what you beseech, what you most excellently seek
but you may recall, somewhat earlier, I called out
shotgun
so you must start my dear by following
all the precise driving instructions you just stated,
and bring your GPS^, and, oh yes,
I'm waiting...*
too wit and sod this!
he gruffingly huffingly, hurrumphingly, replied,
*all hell and damnation,
treat me like a woman just once pity-please!"
*can't can't can't -
she be-witchingly cackled!
then sang to me the lyrical words of a
Nobel Prize winner!*
"***You fake just like a woman
Yes you do, you make love like a woman
Yes you do, and then you ache just like a woman
But you break just like a little boy**"
Sep 27, 2017
Sep 27, 2017 at 6:09 PM UTC
He tittered and cackled
At the refugee plight,
Revelled in innocents
Running for life.
Spends his eternity
Stoking flames,
Mixing ashes
Through worldly pains.
Each closing border
A fire's refrain.
Then humanity stood up,
Spoke up, rose up
To feed and clothe
The homeless hordes:
Lucifer wept
Over our good world.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 10:00 AM UTC
Clayton
How I know you
Paternal parenting
DNA infused
Carbon contribution, to my physique
Father
In everything
My skin, eyes toes,
Unfortunately; inside my mouth
Spitting plaster-walled
Copy-paste personality
The same
Intimately
Close-dangerously
Different
Me a bold-faced fraction of ill abated love
Something that didn't work out
Photocopy
Blond-blasphemy of useless flesh
Reminder of her
Mom
Enough!
Teeter tottering
Tip-Toe tangling opinion
Excuses
Words fermented
Rotting-rigor
I know you.
Slit-eyed palefaced ****** of bigot ideas
Bearing pronged poker
Clicking glinting-clawed finger fondling fake religion
Suppressing supplement thought
********
God's love the good life
Living a life to be proud of
Excuse me!
For not being as I am "supposed" to be
Eatting rancid lies
Your reality relative
To kiss-ass preferred siblings
Who like the taste of ****
What you shovel
Hung on lipsucking harlot, hinged hip hung-over
Descending oppressidly upon willing wanton will of man
Letting cracked-cackled toothed
Field Gap-smile
Decide your next move
I know you
I see what you push into hidden corners
The bias, nasty film of your character
Under whitecollar shirttails
Citizen, Patriot
Americas American
I know you
Your oppression
Not new
As underhanded and seedy as it was
And still is
I know you
As much as I'd like not too.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 4:18 PM UTC
I slept with her, my rapacious pen, took me in quiet vengeance in
full on conjugation
raken and taken, me,
her overlording me now, her authorship, so long held
in my maledom abeyance,
a kept imprisonment, unleashing at last, a tongue lashing~leashing,
de-spite my un-desirous craven lying supplications,
excuses of innocence and accident, coincidence and conflation,
ashes, ashes, denials incinerated, all fall down
she wrote/stabbed upon my heartless chest,
in the cheap crudités colors of a prisoner’s inking,
“user of words mine, all mine”
gathered up my innards of loose words,
speculative notes & titles yet to be,
born and kept hid in password protected silent back labor files,
now hers, leaving me sputtering, unable to create,
a homeless mute citizen, possession-less,
helplessly hoping her hovering harlequin might relent,
without any shelter, even a glimmering, a single aleph or bet
she celebratory cackled and clawed,
professed her reclamation ownership of all my poems predecessors,
zola j’accusing that I, ripped from her forcibly,
with no granted permission, her womanly touché of my scribing,
warning of no more global warming for my unprivileged hands,
daren’t try for pretenses of stolen legal guardianship,
warning of a new, forced caining inscription,
a tattooing of “thief” upon my 5 knuckled right ******
“plagiarist” boldly inked in back & blue upon my left palm
I, predator,
she, victim,
of my now self-professed, admitted confess,
she, my single victim,
of a decade long serializing criminal coverup
her parting poem a threatening,
herein issued in this very verse,
damning all who would falsely credit themselves,
to suffer shame and an unimaginable curse,
this, the newborn eleventh of ten commandments
parting, she kissing my lips, even my emptied apertures,
with warning bitings,
she knew all my
my numerous noms de guerre,
no dead scrolls caves to hid in, and to be discovered some future day,
and if ever marked as copyrighted,
’twas no tunneling escape,
the exposed truth to be over-stamped
upon all, upon each, in every language,
”copied right from the tongue of a woman!”
and she would be wright...
May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 10:10 AM UTC
I’ve been told by a friend to wait here.
As long as I stay here, you’ll be back past five o'clock.
I’ve waited—you came and opened the door.
It’s true; now I will dedicate my nine lives to you.
"She drinks her tea by midnight and lulls herself to sleep. You should waggle your tail and lie beside her. Every day except for Saturday." My friend laughed rigorously when she finished that statement.
“Why can’t I play with her every Saturday?” I asked her, trying to grasp her evading eyes.
"Just because," she shrugged and tried to climb the tree.
"Wait!" I hissed, but she’s nowhere to be found now.
I did everything she told me to do. Eat my food past lunch, play with my worn-out toy, and wait for her to be home.
At the exact moment the cruel sun rose and the light hit my body, I waggled my tail and lied beside her. Unfortunately, I forgot it was Saturday today.
I called her name, distinctively meowing in a weird manner. I cackled slightly; she wouldn’t understand. Biting slowly with her calloused hands and licking the side of her face, she still won’t wake up.
And I meowed until there was no sound left of me. My dear Celia, wake up, for you have to give me food now.
You still need to bathe me and play with me at the park. We’ll still wait for the night to come and watch TV.
Oh, Celia, I’d still spend my nine lives with you. Where have you been since I slept last night?
I’d still wait for you here at the table, near the window. Where the trees dance the delicacy of their sickening leaves. Oh, how we both hated the crispness of those brown leaves.
Oh, how you knew how much I hate autumn and how much I undoubtedly love the breeze of winter. The screeching of the winds and the snow falling onto the ground, where we both scrutinize its unique aspect. We were the same.
How you were covered in snowdrops, and you’d throw me inside the snowpack. I’ll hiss, and you’ll laugh.
"I told you not to play with her every Saturday," my friend whispered, almost with a faint cry. There was a hint of longing in her voice.
"You haven’t told me the answer, Ong."
"She grieves in her dreams, my friend. He visits every Saturday, spends a day with her, and goes home at exactly midnight. She’ll wake up tomorrow, bud," she answered in agony.
Who's he? " I turned to her, but she vanished once again.
Celia, I will love you for the rest of my nine lives. I’ll wait for you tomorrow. It’s okay to grieve for now.
I’d still wait for you here at the table, even though it’s autumn. We both got to accept that winter is already over.
It’s my first life with you in autumn.
Sep 9, 2023
Sep 9, 2023 at 3:10 AM UTC
Crept in sinister and foreboding
Announcing their warnings in silent contrails of clotted red
Though the signs were not heeded
The impending extinction civilization was to face
From this reality humans turned their eyes away
The war was soon in coming
The blood parasites set their war machines humming
Singing songs of death and gold coins
Rubbing their hands with mad glee
As death profiteers cackled and rejoiced
Veiled widows sobbed quietly resigned and forlorn
Black strangling stench of rotting bodies and lies
The look of defeat in helpless glazed eyes
Tears running down accepting streaked faces
The sounds of fading souls and lost dreams
The screams of the dying lessened and eventually ceased
When Crimson skies in the morning
Crept in sinister and foreboding
All Rights Reserved@ Tammy M. Darby Nov. 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 8:39 PM UTC
There once was a Queen who ruled a magical land.
She reigned with an iron fist on a dainty hand.
This Queen was much too mean with servants so humble
who kissed her feet while she only would grumble.
“I’ve had enough!” She said, her fists in the air,
her eyes of wicked flame, snakes in her hair!
What made this great Queen so wicked and bitter?
They all knew what made her skin shiver.
With looks of a tainted angel, this Queen was so mad.
There was no joy in her kingdom to be had.
T’was the doings of a man that made her this way
the Queen learned the hard way how evil they play.
How they twist, choke, slaughter and destroy a whole heart,
only after making art and breaking her apart.
So, in rage, this Queen commanded:
“Bring me the man who caused my pain!” She demanded.
As they brought him to her, she cackled with delight.
They all would witness an awful sight!
Everyone knew he’d wind up dead.
“The blade!” She screamed. “Now sever his head!”
And with that, the blade fell with a sudden: WHACK!
And with a satisfied grin, the Queen wore black.
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 6:36 PM UTC
got myself a donkey yesterday
got myself a donkey yesterday
and tethered it out there in the yard;
but when I looked out the window
I noticed
it looked glum, moody and testy
so I went out to see what I could do
I tickled my donkey
and he cackled and laughed a lot
and he hee-hawed aloud -
but yeah, you can bet your ****
I got the bigger kick out of it
my donkey died
You remember the donkey
I bought some time ago?
Well, I stopped feeding it for a week
and the stupid animal died
just as it was finally learning to survive
on clean air, positive thoughts and vibes
that's a donkey on the table
so my donkey died
and in my grief I lay it on the best table
and I drank and drank
and people who came to mourn
brought some hay
but some of them said, after two days
(and I was still drinking-mourning):
"You can't just leave that lyin' on the table
"
"That's not a lion, you idiot!
"
I barked at each one of them
"That's my donkey on the table!
"
And so I'd demonstrated my ability
to stay sober
and retain my piss-picuity
in spite of days of grief
and like me I am sure you too
cannot but marvel at people's inability
to distinguish between a lion and a donkey
donkey ride
now that my donkey is dead
it makes me reminisce
about the good times we had
________
We were in the car
my donkey and I
as I took it for a weekend ride
which was my habit
And a traffic cop stopped us
and he said:
*“Hey, what you doing
with a donkey in the car?
Take it to the zoo”
*
The next weekend that same cop
stopped us
and he asked me:
*“Still with that donkey?
I thought I told you to take it
to the zoo"
*
“Oh, I did,” I replied
*“and we enjoyed it so much
That was an excellent idea, thank you
Now we’re going to the beach”*
donkey at the cinema
the other time
my donkey insisted
I take it to the cinema
and so I did -
not that I got a kick out of it
but just so that I didn't get a kick
anyways
we were watching the movie
when the guy seated next to donkey
said: *"Hey, you're a donkey.
What 'r' you doing in the cinema? "
*
And donkey replied:
*" I reviewed the book;
now I'm here to review the movie"*
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 1:26 AM UTC
You’ve tamed the beasts -
my lovely Lord -
the twisted troll
the chucky doll
the banshee keening on the marsh
You whipped me to the temple
(they say you were too harsh)
these cravings flame insatiable
a harpy gorging fatty flesh
i ****** the thorns into your eyes
and cackled as they bled:
behold God’s raving jest!
then found you loved me best.
like wild waves and wind
You stilled at Galilee
such savage ache and violent lust
You lull with tender potency
once more a child
quiet, wide-eyed
my head rests on
the Master’s knee
Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 10:21 AM UTC
With guilt writ all over your face,
Twiddling your fingers just like you would
When as a little child
You'd make some mistake,
Shuffling your feet nervously
Like you would when you'd fail a test
Or get a note from school,
You stood in front of me,
My precious, my beautiful,
Who I'd caught hidden under the quilt,
Head buried beneath pillows,
Crying muffled cries of pain.
You finally made eye contact, I know
You waited for my trademark eye roll
For an admonishment, for a
"See, I told you so!"
But dear, before you declared me
As your fiercest enemy, did you ever wonder
That you, the girl- broken, shaken, yet defiant,
Once lived inside of me?
Love created you
And for the following thirty seven weeks
And twenty two
Days you grew within me,
Bit by bit, cell by cell,
Each moment we spent together,
Sealed our souls,
We were best friends even before you were born.
I'd be lost, forlorn all day at work
When I'd leave you behind at home,
You too would find contentment when finally
You'd feed from your mother's *****
I've seen you crawl,
Seen you stumble,
Helped you on your feet when you'd fall,
I've laughed when you've cackled,
I've cried when you have shed a single tear,
I'm a being conjoined to every emotion you feel,
So, my Inaayat dear,
Instead of crying behind closed doors,
And saying "It's okay" without
meeting my gaze,
You should've walked up to me,
Informed me about the time and place,
And mother-daughter, we'd embark
To bash up that ruthless villain
Who broke your delicate heart.
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 2:07 PM UTC
Once upon a time a long way away
The Prince married the Wizard's daughter
Within the Queen's garden they said their vows
Wonderful day in the land of Stohyer
Then came the black witch and let it be known
Her pale white skin sent shivers through the crowd
Her voice cackled making the guests tremble
Thy firstborns blood will make my skin shine proud
To the Wizard's cave they sought his advice
There his red haired daughter told of their plight
Then with dagger he cut each of their hair
Mingled hair in cauldron opened the sight
The clear water began to boil and churn
When it calmed down it was like a birds eye view
This sight was flying fast over the land
To the far corners of the land they flew
Then the sight did still, showing a great bear
The bear looked up at them giving a growl
Come ask me kindly as he showed loose claws
The King understood the bears words in growl
Then sight flew to show an old grand dragon
The dragon saw them and bellowed great flame
Come ask me kindly showing pile of scales
The Prince understood the words from the flame
Then the Queens garden to a strong old tree
The tree swayed and the wind rustled the leaves
Come ask me kindly showing huge walnut
The Queen understood rustling of the leaves
Leaving Wizard and daughter safe in cave
The king rode hard and fast to see the bear
The Prince climbed up high to meet the dragon
The Queen to her garden asked tree to share
Once returned they gave the gifts to Wizard
The bear gave claw of a great warrior
Dragon gave the scale of the first dragon
Placed in walnut shell to protect Stohyer
Wizard sealed the shell and gave to daughter
Keep warm and with you always my daughter
When you are with child it will crack open
Revealing a protector of Stohyer
The red haired Princess took care of the shell
The Princess kept it with her everywhere
Then one morning she awoke to cracking
With husband they watched a hatching to share
It cracked a little here and then more there
Revealing something they had never seen
A bearlike furry ball with a long tail
Stretching out little horns could now be seen
The eyes of the Prince and Princess went wide
Something beautiful and new was now there
Looking up at them with green dragon eyes
The Princess cuddled Teddy Dragon Bear
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 6:06 PM UTC
She frolicked through trouble, and dandled with mischief. Alison Wonderland; everything I wished I was and so much more. Ever emanating her doe-eyed façade; proclaiming our jests mere “mischief.”
Yet, an unspoken verdict (Foretaste? Conception? Notion?) had cloaked the truth: wickedness rippled beneath our parade.
I nuzzled her contours; my peripheral eye – nailed to her profile, her blueprints, her chassis. I stalked her mirage – dancing with vapor.
She glissaded about, no fool to my truth, varnishing my mantle.
I belonged to Alison: perpetually at her side. Our couplet became a “we.” So, We regretted nothing. We veered for the pyre: caroming(skimming?) those embers alit with vice.
She narrated my mental seminar. Discarding my dogmas to uphold her own; and thus, my mind was hers.
My mind was her mind.
Alison made heads turn, and mouths water, as we sidled – hand in hand – down the street. She was my Christmas morning: each colloquium – giftwrapped with finesse. She personified paradise, she illustrated utopia. Hatching our Carnival; netting us, enamored, sidling the Carousal. We’d skim, we’d sail, her halo – my fossil. Her lips, her eyes, her hands… they echoed the innocence of a child. Niave, innocent, and giftwrapped in wonder.
Little Miss Wonderland: my very own fairytale. She was mine alone; she was mine to keep.
Did I want her, or did I want to be her?
Alison Wonderland.
Her aura – so celestial – paralleled my prose. When she banished my husk – Maple Thatcher – I cackled good riddance… And I grew a new personality to accommodate her own.
For, without Ali – devoid of our we – I doubted the very existence of me.
On my composition, she bestowed rhythm. She gave tune to my silence; her chimes, her cadence. My ink was her song – fusing a symphony. A symphony of Alison: the melody to solidify our tryst.
My mind was her mind.
And yet… somehow, I missed a carriage – or two – aboard her train of thought. For, the same felon spiting my existence, was the angel I loved to life. Gladly, I huffed, and I puffed, and I blew Maple down.
Fused against Alison, I needed none of Maple.
Carnival infatuations…
Alison Wonderland.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 8:04 AM UTC
the great hedonist
i tore rabbit fur for my coat
from the fleeing children
of widowed hare
i drained the grapes of every vinyard
juniper berry kiss
i found nothing but bliss
i cackled in excess
bleeding from glass addled feet
with strange women
like ghosts
who shared my bed
i smoked the stars and ate the sun
until Zeus
the beast himself
shot lightning into my heart
his voice boomed judgment
and as i rose
the petals fell from my shoulders
my teeth stained with wine
i stared him straight in the eyes
he boomed again
"why do you mock me?"
i could only smile
i fell from my clothes
and pulled a spear from mother earth herself
i charged him
the great Zeus
was nothing
against the endless pit
of my desire.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 12:00 PM UTC
The day following Cawdor's capture
Was strange and grew stranger:
Relief from battle's end,
The weary ride's return.
Three witches in a fen
Pronounced Macbeth's sweet future
Named him, "King," hereafter.
Their prophecy fazed him,
I think.
Aware their source could only be the Devil,
I queried them,
"Prophesy the future to my line."
Cackled utterances gave nothing to me,
Except the fathering of kings,
A promise I can only to leave to God.
Shrieking and smoking,
The hags evaporated
Leaving us shaking,
Alone in murky thought.
I obeyed, as much as I am able,
Macbeth's command
To leave the hellish messengers'
Words hanging in that fen.
Tonight Glamis has become Cawdor;
The day has trickled down to night;
I am out upon the battlements,
Too troubled now to sleep
While Macbeth snores, content.
He leaves to see his Lady in the morning.
King Duncan follows after
To celebrate the victory of Scotland,
To honor the bravest of his heroes,
The two-named Thane.
Here above the courtyard,
I pace beneath the tent of night,
As witches' words I mutter,
"And King hereafter."
Something is not right.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 7:10 PM UTC
I wonder where my little pagan princess is?
No doubt, she's out casting spells,
or getting her nails, hair, and lips painted black.
I gave her a broomstick for her birthday and said it was cheaper on gas than her Saab.
She failed to see the humor in it.
What I wouldn't give to find a woman that dug watching sunsets, The Three stooges, and listening to Miles Davis; that looked alive, instead of like Morticia from the Adams Family, or some demented funeral
director on crack.
She's got a meeting with the
coven tonight.
I suggested that we get some
Chardonnay, put on some Van Morrison, and make love by
the fireplace.
She just cackled and flew off,
in her Saab, not on the broomstick.
Jun 12, 2023
Jun 12, 2023 at 8:50 AM UTC
got myself a donkey yesterday
and tethered it out there in the yard;
but when I looked out the window
I noticed
it looked glum, moody and testy
so I went out to see what I could do
I tickled my donkey
and he cackled and laughed a lot
and he hee-hawed aloud -
but yeah, you can bet your ****
I got the bigger kick out of it
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 12:39 AM UTC
King Arthur the great, a man to be noted,
head of the table, of greatness t'is coated,
slayer of dragons, killer of kings,
***** of brats and fellater of things.
After a triumphant skirmish, which Arthur did lead,
it was decided he'd celebrate in his great hall of mead.
One of his councilmen, being ever so corny,
decided to throw old Arthur an ****
he rallied his men,
about a hundred and ten,
and proved to Arthur that they were quite *****
He yanked Arthur's hair,
thrashed his fine heir,
and while in the process, he was not far from bare.
He spread Arthur's *** and shoved in his large diaphragm,
then threw in his huge **** and yelled "Here comes the leviathan!"
He thrusted and pounded then started to moan,
he ****** on his ******* and continued to bone.
The councilman, not satisfied, pulled out his large knife,
his eyes were bloodshot , his **** was his life.
He stared at Arthur's *** crack, it looked rather thin,
he carved it and sliced it then shoved it back in.
He looked into Arthur's eyes and said he wont waste,
he told all his men to **** with such haste.
Not one hole was spared, his nostrils were bleeding,
he turned at the councilman and asked for a beating.
The councilman nodded and with such a strange grin,
put it in Arthur's mouth, t'is no mere sin.
He slapped it, shook it and cried for power,
the gods must have heard him, his men started to cower.
He screamed and yelled as he let out his gravy,
he licked Arthur's eyes and cried "too bad theirs no baby!"
Arthur's eyes turned red, mad with such rage,
he snapped off his **** and thrashed the old sage.
He ripped out his stomach and had it ****** clean,
he shat on the sack and ****** on his spleen.
He stripped off his shirt and threw him on a bed,
then blasted a load, my word he was dead!
he ******* the mans carcass and licked his curved spine,
he exploded with power and yelled "By God it is time!"
And with a snap of his fingers the man turned to dust,
Arthur then cackled "well he earned my trust".
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 5:44 AM UTC
Cross my path with silver,
cackled the aged crone,
She sniggered,
and the girlie,
she just walked past,
Grinning, saying confidentially,
"What you know you silly old hag",
The hag she shouted in her face,
Girlie,"I can bless you,
or equally, can curse you",
The years did pass,
The crone, kept girl's sarcasm in her heart,
The girl she wanted an honest child,
for she had grown older,
somewhat bolder,
And she tried to conceive,
a baby of love,
a gift from above,
she had lots of expensive investigations,
but she just couldn't fall,
The crone she passed in the hallway,
Smiled all knowingly,
she whispered at the sweet chick,
"if you'd crossed my palm with silver, all those years ago,
you would have had a baby,
But you will never know,
She sat and she thought, and she smiled to herself,
For she never believed in that gypsy's curse.
Two years have passed since that day,
her bonny baby, she doth play,
realised the gypsy curse was *******
(C) Livvi
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 2:12 PM UTC
I do not know why you moved to this side
long ago, before your city became a **** zone
maybe you knew something I did not
you knew many things I did not, which I discovered
when you politely corrected my grammar
though it was my native tongue,
and one you learned reading our newspapers,
watching our television
listening, more carefully than most,
to what the gringos said
you told me tales of the arena,
usually after dinner, on your back porch
when the shadow of the mountain covered our houses
like a quiet blanket, blocking out the blistering heat
of the desert day
you would offer me a soda, always
before my questions began
your civility was strange to me at first,
the adults in my family barked and cackled
your words rolled out like sweet liquid
and left me wanting more
I never asked why you had no woman,
you were as handsome as any man I knew
later, years later, years of name calling later
I guess I understood, maybe
that was why you left your home
though the blind blood of bigotry
ran freely on both sides of the Rio Grande
and I knew you to be courageous
for when you told me the stories,
as the desert sky became violet and cool,
and the few cicadas began their song,
you boasted not of your dangerous dance
in the packed dirt of the ring,
but of the art it took to silence the beast
the lost look in its red *** eyes
and the silent sadness you felt
as the crowd cheered
another beautiful death
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 10:55 PM UTC
as the squares charred,
lying to my eyes that their
matter was disintegrating, salted
droplets eroded streams of
regret that deepened my dusk
and dulled my blaze.
but it’s somewhat amusing
isn’t it, that my own fleshy
urn holds no shape as
symmetrically sound as the squares
that charred and lied.
call out my name; let my ashes be the
penultimate vibrations that echo as
the squares squares squares grasped the twigs
and tufts of amphibological
debris, beckoning my
eyes to glow ablaze.
while the wisps of smoke
escape the dancing radiance that crackled and
cackled as the memories i was
too burnt out to memorize, decomposed
knowingly, deceiving my
orbs that will
indeed always forget the
silently sleeping squares.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 1:05 PM UTC
They gathered together that night
Around the table beneath the moonlight
Five witches of the highest order
Plotting the demise of the sisters of light
With couldrens burning and potions making
The witches cackled and screamed
For tonight they will pay
The good sisters we slay and darkness shall be queen
Bluebells bent and swayed in the
Light which they bathed
Of the good sisters of the day
Whom life meant right was right
And there was no night
Only sunshine forever they prayed
As the wind gathered it's pace
They knew the witches misbehaved
So a spell of good love
Was made in a rush to turn all the hatred away
When the two coverns did meet
Spells fell at the feet of witches and angels alike
And when the light and the dark
Clashed in a screaming of barks
The dust settled and then
It seemed neither could win
And light wouldn't sin
And darkness couldn't feel light
So they both went away
Promised to stay
At opposite ends of the day
So that's why we have day and night
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 10:32 AM UTC
Today she wore curlers in her hair
looking like cannons staked out ready to blare
Her lipstick and powder
like bouillabaisse chowder
And when she demanded a goodbye "peck"
I said "No way!" to the wreck
Which made her rear back and bray
"Go home then and kiss a stingray!"
She cackled and cackled
raising my hackles
Thinks she is the second Joan Rivers
but she only gives me the shivers
Soon I was fearing another fight nearing
seeing her witch's eyes evilly peering
And when she rose in those clumpy army boots
I heard an arpeggio of loud flatulent *****
Forcing me out the door needing fresh air
and away from her threatening glare
But one day I'll be back
once I can align myself on the proper son-in-law track
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 11:08 AM UTC